Serendipity (Veldora x TBATE)

~🧍‍♂️🧍~

Vulnerability is terrifying.

It's like thinking that being vulnerable around someone ought to bring more harm than good. You'd wish to hear "I'm here for you" countless times from your friends, you'd wish for understanding shoulders to lean on as you bawl your eyes out. Even then, when it comes down to it, it just seems so unbelievably hard.

You can't seem to put it into words.

Even if you do get the words, they get caught in your throat, unable to come out.

Being vulnerable and being acknowledging are two polar opposites of interpersonal communication. And yet, it's this very struggle that makes us human. It's the tension between our desire to connect and our fear of being hurt that defines so much of our relationships and our growth.

For most, even silence is enough as long as you have someone. Just quietly sitting in the shore and watching the sunset as it goes down the horizon—it can save someone from drowning in their self-wallowing.

If being open is the way to connect with others, but we can't do it, are we really living? Or are we just trapped in the walls we've built?

~🐉~

Vulnerability is terrifying.

For humans, it often means feeling emotionally unstable, as if letting others see your true self might bring you harm. People fear being seen as weak, and so they hide their vulnerabilities.

But for dragons, to be vulnerable is to face the end of everything they are.

The true dragons are powerful, legendary beings. They embody invulnerability, representing a force of nature that cannot be touched or defeated.

In the human world, vulnerability can lead to connection. When someone says, "I'm here for you," it offers comfort and support, reminding us that we are not alone.

But dragons don't find comfort in such words. "I don't want to be a burden" isn't their excuse either.

Admitting vulnerability means facing their greatest fear—the idea that they might not be as strong as they believe. For a dragon, just thinking about vulnerability is enough to begin their downfall.

They see vulnerability as a threat to their very identity.

Their strength defines them, and to question that strength is to question who they are.

But if strength is built on denying vulnerability, can it ever truly be called strength?